Insights versus Findings?
When I was 12 years old, I had visited my uncle’s farm near Hyderabad. His farm was a beautiful, lush haven symbiotically flourishing with farm animals. I used to enjoy spending my time there, and every morning, along with my aunt, I’d pick up the eggs laid by the hens. A few days after returning from the farm, I developed tiny red dots all over my skin. The doctor diagnosed it to be chickenpox. I started associating the chickenpox with the “chickens” at the farm, believing that they were the cause of my misery. One day, after I got better, I went back to the farm during my summer vacation, and my aunt asked if I wanted me to come with her to the chicken coop to collect the eggs. Frightened by the memory of the chickenpox, I vehemently said, “NOOOOO!” Puzzled by my behavior, she asked me why. I told her that I hate chickens because “they” had given me the chickenpox. Initially, no amount of explanation or coercion could make me see the light that the chickens were not the cause of ...